


Try Harder (Lower Your Expectations)

by imawalkingtravesty



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxious Tony Stark, Depressed Tony Stark, Depression, Drug Use, Drugs, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Insomniac Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Panic Attacks, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Speech Disorders, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:06:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22286068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imawalkingtravesty/pseuds/imawalkingtravesty
Summary: It took fast-tracking through MIT, multiple deaths, inheriting a multi-billion dollar company, a kidnapping, becoming Iron Man, nearly dying, and saving the world to have Tony Stark finally admitting that he doesn’t have a great relationship with stress.But he still continued to push harder.In which Tony Stark doesn't stop until he breaks, and it turns into a much bigger problem than it should be.
Relationships: Howard Stark & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 39
Kudos: 326
Collections: Tony Stark Angst





	1. Chapter 1

“Anthony. Sit down.”

Tony Stark knew many things, albeit being a six year-old. He knew how to build circuit boards, he knew how to code extensive programs. On a darker side, he knew how to read and act around certain people, and how to manipulate them. He also knew that whenever his father called him, there was usually a problem, that Tony had messed up somehow, or that he had to sit through a lecture of how he was the next Stark and must withhold the legacy and et cetera, et cetera. 

“Yeah?” Tony asked, taking the seat in front of the couch where both of his parents were sitting, both looking like they didn’t want to be there. They were squished against the opposite sides of the couch, putting as much space in between them as they could.

Howard looked at him sharply.

“Yes, sir?” Tony corrected with some snark.

“Don’t make this even more difficult than it has to be,” his mother warned him, shifting uncomfortably as she glanced at her husband, who looked somewhat happy, minus the little glaring episode. He looked… almost proud. Maybe not that far. He looked neutral, as if he was actually aware that he had a kid and was happy about it.

“Difficult? What’s happening?” he looked at his father. “Sir.”

He immediately feared the worst. Jarvis was dead, heart attack or something, or Ana was dead. Or maybe they were selling the house, moving away never to be seen again, or the business went bankrupt, or in his worst dreams, they were giving him up, sending him to an orphanage because he was such a burden, couldn’t live up to Howard’s expectations. Or maybe Maria was pregnant; they were replacing Tony, praying that the unborn child would be better than him, a disappointment who never stopped disobeying and making everything difficult. 

“You’ve been accepted into Phillips Academy,” Howard said, a gentle smile on his lips. That was new. 

“Why is that difficult?” Tony asked, confused. 

“It’s in Massachusetts,” his mother informed him, a frown on her face.

“Oh,” Tony said, rubbing his hands on his denimed thighs uncomfortably, realization hitting him.

He was being sent away. Boarding school. He was seven years old, and although he was very smart and clever for his age, no child should be that far away from his parents. Or from Jarvis, he’d miss him. Would there be people who would cook on him, or will he starve? Would it be like university, where he had to take care of himself, or would there be other kids his age there? Would he make friends? He didn’t need friends.

“You leave first thing on Sunday,” Howard said, the smile looking like an impostor on his face, looming evilly, stretching the thin lips. He leaned forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees. “Jarvis will drive you.”

“How far away is it?” Tony blurted out, not caring how childish it sounded. 

“Two hundred and twenty-three miles,” Howard grinned, all teeth. “A four hour drive.”

“Oh,” Tony pursed his lips and looked down. 

“You’ll come visit on holidays,” Maria intervened before Howard could get ahead of himself. Tony looked up and saw his father’s face fall for a second, the thought of seeing the little brat a few times a year plagiarizing him. 

“You’ll learn, over there,” Howard said, smiling again. “And it’s a set path to MIT.”

Howard seemed happy. His kid would still get a quality education, and the only thing he would have to do is empty out his wallet every time tuition rolled around. Howard had no problem throwing his money at things, making his problems disappear with every paycheque given. And Tony was a problem, so of course, he would want him out of his hands as soon as possible, no matter the price. 

“I’ll miss you,” Maria said softly. Tony nodded, at a loss for words. He wanted to tell her the same, that he’ll miss home with Jarvis and his own bed and the elaborate workshop, but-

No sound came out. He shook his head and didn’t look up to meet her eyes.

He knew he was a problem; Howard had taught him that. Never giving him affection, never giving him praise, always telling him that he was a waste of time and how useless he was. They were strangers, maybe even worse; family that had fallen apart. But getting sent away just kind of made it feel like Howard had won, somehow. It put the final stamp on proving that Tony Stark was a certified mistake.

Howard walked away, nearly whistling, and Tony went upstairs to pack, leaving his mother sitting miserably on the couch.

When the day of departure finally arrived, Tony didn’t say a word; he couldn’t. His mouth was dry and wouldn’t form the words, wouldn’t bite back at his father, wouldn’t say loving words to his mother. He just silently went along, putting his bag in the backseat and climbing into the front with Jarvis. The car started and they pulled away from the mansion, Tony determined not to stare back and show his weak and barely put-together face to his father. Stark men are made of iron, Howard frequently reminded him, so he wasn’t going to make his sad face the last memory that Howard would have of his disappointment of a son.

“Are you alright, young master?” Jarvis asked, once they were well on the way, about an hour into the long drive.

Tony tried to say that he was fine, but the words got stuck in his throat.

\--

Weltschmerz. German for the feeling of having the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Tony was no stranger to stress. His father made him work from day one, making sure he was the smartest kid to ever walk the planet. He frequently worked non-stop, first on personal projects and then school projects (which probably contributed to the stress, but school was boring but making a code for an AI was interesting), forgetting to eat and forgetting to sleep and forgetting that hey, he should probably crawl out of his dorm and socialize a bit. 

One time he had a thirty page lab report due, and a project idea backed up with research and a hypothesis to hand in to a class, and a test the next day, and designs to send Obie, and the professor hinted at a pop quiz yesterday, and then it was twelve in the morning and he literally could not do anything without wanting to launch himself out his dorm window. His report sat with twenty pages done, his project was a half-assed document with point-form notes, the designs were nowhere to be seen, and the studying was non-existent. He had been running on an hour of sleep for two days and a shit ton of caffeine, and he was ready to conk out.

Rhodey, his roommate and best friend, was watching a Super Bowl game at someone else’s dorm party, complete with chips and beer and face paint and a good time, and Tony desperately wanted to join in. He wanted a beer. He wanted to relax and scream at the TV, collectively sharing one brain cell among the rest of the student body here at MIT.

But no, he had to _work_.

Tony was seriously considering jumping out of the window.

He tried to concentrate, but the words wouldn’t come as easily as they did usually, and he felt like there was some weight crushing him whenever he thought of everything he had to do before his classes. He switched between assignments whenever he got tired of working on them, but he just couldn’t fucking concentrate and all he could hear was the yelling of joy from the football party somewhere far away, unreachable. Rhodey was there. Rhodey was having a good fucking time whereas Tony had to work and suffer, God strike him dead right there and then.

Tony sighed. If God wouldn’t kill him, he’d have to take matters into his own hands. 

He made a list in the margins of a random sheet of lined paper. The pros and cons of living. He wouldn’t have to hand anything in, that’s for sure. No more MIT, no more worrying, no more schoolwork. He didn’t need to suffer from the stress and miss out on the football party happening, he didn’t need to worry about school and the stress of inheriting his father’s company once his dad retired. He wouldn’t need to do anything. He’d be dead. No work, no school, no stress. And would anybody miss him? He had one friend, who was young and had an entire life in front of him to make other friends. Besides, he seemed to be having the time of his life at the party without Tony, so what the heck.

He was unsurprised that the list had no pros. 

Tony saved his work and went to the party, deciding that he would let himself live a bit before taking his own life. He felt strangely calm with the idea; his hands were shaking while he had been writing the list, but now that the final decision had been made, he felt like he could do anything. 

“Tones! Ya done with yer pr’ject?” Rhodey said, stumbling, obviously very drunk. “Washington won, man! Forty-two tuh ten, Denver sucks!”

Tony grinned, throwing an arm around Rhodey, pretending that he had an idea that Washington and Denver were actually competing. He didn’t care about sports unless there was alcohol. “Get me a beer, will ya?” 

“Fer sure, man,” Rhodey dragged him over to the counter and grabbed a couple cans of Bud Light from the mini fridge. He handed them both to Tony. “Dude, yuh should r’lax.”

“I will,” Tony grinned, then grabbed a plastic bottle of water from the fridge. “But you should drink this.”

“Yer boring,” Rhodey complained, but grabbed the water and chugged it. Tony looked around. The party was almost over, and if he wanted to off himself before Rhodey came back so soon and called an ambulance, he needed to act on his plan as soon as possible.

Tony left Rhodey on the couch with a water bottle, surrounded by face paint and other drunk people, before going upstairs. He’d miss Rhodey, that’s for sure, but it’s really hard to miss people when you’re dead, providing there is nothing after death. No heaven or hell, or feeling. Just death.

He locked the door and cracked open the two cans of beer from the party, and dug into his suitcase for the estazolam that he bought from someone a while back, selling his body and giving a healthy amount of money. He poured the remaining dozen pills in his hand, and washed them down his throat with the beer, sitting down heavily at his desk. He didn’t bother with a note, none of that teenaged-girl shit. Besides, who would care enough to read it? Notes just place the blame on or take it off of people, they were useless and no one cared anyway.

He stood up from his spot at his desk, the world starting to feel light. His muscles were relaxed, and the thoughts that usually went through his mind at the speed of light were slowing down until there was nothing. It was just him and his breath in his ears, no thinking, no feeling. Everything was warm and muted, just the way it should be. It felt like being wrapped in a blanket that just came out of the dryer, all fuzzy and quiet, not a single worry crossing his mind.

His eyelids got heavy and closed automatically, and his diaphragm relaxed as he let out one last conscious breath.

\--

Rhodey didn’t say much once Tony woke up, surrounded by the white and the antiseptic smell of the hospital, but Tony could tell that he really wanted to.

Rhodey’s jaw was clenching and unclenching, opening and closing, trying to find the words to say to Tony. But nothing came out, so he just sat in the hard plastic chair beside the hospital bed, staring at Tony in the eyes for a solid minute before blurting out, “You’re an idiot.”

Tony tried to say something like “I know,” but just like Rhodey, the words were stuck in his throat. He tried to form vowels and consonants, but all that came out was a strangled, verbal version of a keyboard smash. Rhodey looked at him with pity, and then with worry, as Tony slowly realized that _ohmygodicantspeak_ and the heart rate monitor sped up and he kept trying to make sounds _butnothingwouldcomeoutohmygod-_

“Tony. Tones,” Rhodey was quick to stand up and take Tony’s hand, like a cheesy film. “Tony.”

Tony closed his eyes and held his breath; if whatever he had taken messed up his brain, then well, he was done for. Oh, God. Howard. If his son, the heir of a million-dollar company, couldn’t speak, then he was done for. He would get disowned for sure. Did Howard know that he was in the hospital? Did Jarvis? Were they on their way here? What about Obie? What about his assignments? He had taken the pills to make sure he didn’t have to do the fucking assignments but now he was live and he had to possibly do makeup work along with the work he didn’t do and what if they won’t let him get an extension? What if-

“Tones. You’re alright.” 

Tony gasped out the breath he was holding, and opened his eyes, finding Rhodey’s warm brown ones. He squeezed his hand as well as squeezing his eyes shut again, trying to get his body under control. He couldn’t help the tears from pricking his eyes, or the lump from rising in his throat. He swallowed heavily and took a shaky breath in, then out, as he slowly willed himself to calm down.

“A-a-accid- accid-d-dent,” Tony garbled out, the words strangled and impostorous in his mouth, but he did it. He spoke, he made a comprehensible sound, all was not lost.

“Accident my ass,” Rhodey said, but it was gentle. “I emailed your profs already. You’re getting an extension on everything but the tests.”

Tony tried to say ‘thank you', but it didn’t leave his mouth. “A-a-acid-de-dent,” he stuttered again, trying to remember how the word sounded in his brain.

“Accident or not, you’re getting help,” Rhodey sighed. “Now get some rest.”

Tony closed his eyes, going through every word he knew in his head to try to jog his brain into remembering what words were.

The next time he woke up, his sudden speech impediment was gone, and he had smooth-talked his way out of every single therapy option.

\--

Pepper Potts was worried.

There had been a recent blow up of things that Tony had to do, and knowing Tony Stark and his ways, there was probably no way that the work would get finished before it was time to send it off. Heck, the reason there was more work than usual was because Tony hadn’t been showing up to work recently, so there was paperwork and pushed-back meetings to attend to and Pepper really wanted to cancel a few things that had less importance just so she wouldn’t have to force Tony into doing things that he didn’t want to do (which was terrible for the business but Tony Stark was a child and would make things difficult).

She made a schedule, though, and it turned out that if he worked on a certain thing and finished it within an hour, and then attended this meeting, and then worked on something else, and etc., along with some freeway time if the meetings went longer than necessary, all could technically be done in a day’s work. It was pretty doable, and there were even frequent breaks that could be wormed in that would make time for Tony to be a baby about things. She emailed him the work that needed to be done, along with a schedule, and Tony replied a few minutes later with a short email that read, ‘bring me coffee.’ Pepper had the coffee delivered and her boss actually at work, so the day was actually looking up.

A few hours later, she went to check if he was ready to go for the meeting. But lo and behold, Tony was nowhere to be seen in his office. Pepper frowned. That left the lab, where he was most likely not working on Stark Industries-related business. 

Sure enough, she went down to the lab and found Tony tinkering away at some sort of motor. She sighed, although unsurprised, trying to keep the frustration under control. “Did you finish any of the work?” she asked carefully, closing her eyes and cringing, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Tony answered, not looking up from the motor. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he was covered in grease stains, and they had to leave for the meeting in five minutes which was definitely not doable in the way Tony was currently presenting.

“You have things to do. This is your job,” Pepper said through gritted teeth, biting her tongue to try and keep herself in check. She was not going to lose it. She may have been on her period and had slept maybe four hours the previous night, but she was not going to lose it.

Tony didn’t answer, but his Adam’s apple was bopping in his throat.

“We have a meeting in five. Get ready,” she turned on her heel, refusing to look at him anymore.

He shook his head, continuing to work on the motor.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” She asked, seething, turning around to glare at him. 

“I d-d-don’t want to,” Tony said, coughing afterward to cover up the stuttering.

“That’s not an excuse! God, you sound like a teenager!” she said, storming out with her hands above her head in surrender. “Why do I even try with you?”

Tony swallowed and looked up at her retreating form, then took a deep breath.

“Why do you, Ms Potts?” Tony asked in a deadly-calm voice, stopping her in her tracks. 

She turned around to meet his eyes, which held an urgency in the usual deep brown. 

“You should quit. Add it to the resume,” he continued, not looking anywhere else but her eyes, the brown tinged with mild annoyance and something else that she couldn’t put a finger on. “If you’re unhappy with me, you should leave. We have insurance which should give you a rather healthy pay for a few months until you find a new job.”

“Are you firing me?” Pepper asked, taking a few deep breaths. She kept her guard up, though, not letting him see how hurt she was by the statement. She was angry with him. He was being a baby, firing her after she put up with him for all of these years, he was right, she should be getting a good job with a boss who _actually did his work when he needed to instead of being a child about everything._

“Why are you here, Ms Potts?” Tony said instead of answering her question. “I’m a mess. I never do my work.” His tone of voice never changed, holding a steady, deep thrum. Even though the words were self-deprecating, Tony somehow made it sound like he was using them to hurt her.

“You know what, _Tony Stark?_ ” Pepper spat, walking towards the desk and hitting the huge stack of papers waiting for Tony to complete. “I’m sorry I was born in a middle-class family. I’m sorry I had to work my way up to the top. I’m sorry you were born into a rich family and you never had to raise your finger for anything!” she said, punctuating every sentence clearly and with purpose.

Tony had the sense to remain silent, but didn’t avert his gaze from her eyes that were burning with anger.

“I’m sorry you’re a selfish baby who doesn’t feel the need to think about the benefit of the company before acting, or especially lack thereof!” she yelled, slapping her hand down on the table.

She stood there for a minute, seething and breathing heavily under the gaze of her boss. Tony was silent, watching her attentively. So she would get fired, she would lose the six-figure salary and have to get another job, but she would never have to work with this child of a boss again. She could find someone who would actually work and put in the effort to grow instead of just inheriting a company simply for existing. Leaving this job was looking better by the thought.

“Are you done, Ms Potts?” Tony asked, his voice still that steady pitch.

She stormed off without a backward glance, wondering how he could be so Goddamned quiet when she was aching to burst with more insults and more of Tony’s faults.

\--

Pepper didn’t email Tony saying she was resigning. Nor did she get the notice of eviction to her office.

But Tony didn’t show up to work until two weeks later, shut everyone out of his office, and buckled down to work. Three days later (he never left his office, didn’t even go home) Tony invited her to his office for an announcement, and she dreaded the worst. She was getting fired, there was no way that she wasn’t.

“I f-finished the work,” Tony said simply, stuttering slightly, pointing at the pile of paperwork with a USB on top, presumably holding the digital documents and folders.

Pepper’s jaw dropped, staring at the dark eye bags and the numerous empty coffee cups littered all over every surface. He was obviously working himself to the bone, and he looked ready to pass out at the next word, the next thought. 

“Stop looking at me like that. Every once in awhile I actually behave,” he grumbled, standing up, leaning heavily on the armrests of his chair. He paused, holding his breath, as he got his feet underneath him and functioning.

“Thank you, Mr Stark,” Pepper said, blinking in confusion. She walked over to collect the papers, and she found her legs shaking with every step. 

“Mm,” he said indifferently, waving his hand as if to dismiss her. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the desk instead of the chair, and she was suddenly aware of how he was shaking as well, looking terribly unbalanced.

“Am I fired?” she blurted out the words that had been on the tip of her tongue as soon as she had stepped into the room.

He looked startled. “No? Why?” he asked, somewhat at a loss of words, raising an eyebrow.

“I yelled at you, and I..,” she trailed off at the look of passiveness on his face.

“I gave you a good reason to yell. It’s good to yell. Get it out of your system,” he shook his head. “Do me a favour and call Rhodey?”

“Of course, Mr Stark,” she started for the door, assuming that the last question was her dismissal, but turned around. “May I ask where you were the last two weeks?”

“Vacation. Mr James Rhodes suggested it after I got released from the hospital,” he said nonchalantly, shrugging.

“The hospital,” Pepper said, blinking quickly.

“The less you know, the better,” he regarded her. “Now fetch Rhodey for me.”

Pepper complied, and a few minutes later, Rhodey supported a shaking Tony Stark out of his office. Rhodey caught her eye and glared at her, shooing her away before Tony could notice her and get his too-large ego bruised.

It must be very interesting to be Colonel James Rhodes, Pepper deduced, quietly to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing this instead of studying for my science culminative :)

It took fast-tracking through MIT, multiple deaths, inheriting a multi-billion dollar company, a kidnapping, becoming Iron Man, nearly dying, and saving the world to have Tony Stark finally admitting that he doesn’t have a great relationship with stress.

But he still continued to push harder. 

He really needed to get these reports done, they needed to be filled out and typed out with as much information as he could, there was a project proposal that needed to be completed with as much detail possible complete with every single way this project could help and who this project could help and how this project could help and Tony being Tony of course was working on the project before the proposal had even been started, because that was more interesting and it was still work, right? Anyway, he had recently had a team of writers come and take a look at his project and had Tony explain everything to them, but when they showed him the outline for the proposal report they got everything wrong, wrong, wrong and Tony just gave up and said that he’d write it himself.

Big mistake.

Along with the giant project that needed to be made, there were now the upgrades for the Avengers team. He was grateful for their company and everything, but they were all in constant need of upgrades, and along with the fantastic and eye-opening trip through the wormhole, Tony found himself not being able to say ‘no’ to protecting his teammates. He worked on his suit daily, sometimes even for solid days at a time, because threat was imminent, and he needed to protect everyone he knew. That was one fleet through the wormhole. That meant that there were more, possibly bigger, more powerful intelligent beings that could totally wreck the earth and everyone on it.

And that one fight with Pepper. Tony found himself thinking about it whenever he let himself have downtime, and then it would be back to the workshop, not letting himself take a break. The fight was so long ago, long before Iron Man was even a thing, but it still haunted him. Almost losing Pepper over a mistake that Tony had made pushed him further, and he was staying awake and working far longer than any human had ever dared. He just didn’t want people mad at him again. If having Howard call him a disappointment was bad, having Pepper call him a disappointment was worse.

He did try, honest. Tony tried to do the work after Pepper had stormed out. But then his chest was hurting like nothing before and his arm was all crampy and he was sweating, and he honest-to-God thought he was having a heart-attack. He had called Rhodey instead of a hospital (priorities), but it turned out that it was just stress-induced hypertension. He took a couple weeks off for vacation and decided to buckle down and do his work.

He told himself that Pepper would be the last person to get mad at him. He was going to work from here on in. He would get it done.

Two weeks and one project proposal finished along with team upgrades later, Tony went upstairs to grab some coffee. He had forgotten to sleep and forgotten to eat and forgotten to talk and had forgotten everything while he was working in the lab, so going upstairs was like an alien experience. People lived with him? People actually found time to sit down and watch TV? Did Clint Barton always travel through the vents and give people heart attacks when he randomly exploded from one?

“Good evening, Stark,” Clint saluted, replacing the vent cover

Tony glared at him and turned to his coffee, massaging his chest.

“Man of many words,” he said sourly, perching on the counter and watching Tony make his coffee. “Don’t you think that coffee at nine is stretching your bedtime?”

Tony tried to answer, but he really couldn’t. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and he dropped the mug in surprise when he realized that for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t talk. Not again. Not like before, this wasn’t, he didn’t ingest a huge amount of estazolam like before, nobody was yelling at him like before with Pepper, this wasn’t supposed to be happening? He tried to curse when the glass shards flew everywhere, an automatic reaction, but nothing came out.

“Butterfingers,” Clint muttered. 

Tony looked up at Clint, trying to convey a quip or retort through his eyes, but it only made Clint worried at the fact that Tony wasn’t actually saying anything.

“Stark?”

Tony just shook his head, his mouth was dry and his tongue like sandpaper and he didn’t know how to say the words because they weren’t coming to him like they usually would, and he glanced at Clint helplessly, making various hand gestures (which might’ve actually helped if Tony actually knew sign language because Clint had been deaf at one point but no, Tony was just waving his hands around looking like a maniac).

“Coff, c-coffee,” Tony stuttered out finally, the word coming to him, and he pointed at the ground with the broken glass everywhere. 

Clint grinned, relief all over his face. “Thought you were having a stroke, Stark. Can’t scare a guy like that,” he grabbed a non-shattered mug and passed it to Tony. One of the cleaner bots came over and danced around Tony’s feet, taking the broken glass away.

Tony just smiled tightly at him because he couldn’t form the words to express his apology, his heart pounding all through his body and his chest heaving. He filled the mug up with coffee, praying that the caffeine would jog his memory.

Could he just forget how to speak? Was that a thing? He couldn’t make his mouth move or make the noise of the vowels, he didn’t have the word, could he just forget? Was speaking a practice that needed to be applied? Everything was stuck in his throat. He took a gentle sip of coffee and cleared his throat, swallowing hard. Everything seemed to be working, no foreign objects stuck in his throat, nothing wrong. Why couldn’t he talk like the incessant talking everyone was used to?

“You okay? You aren’t talking my head off, this is new,” Clint said, raising an eyebrow in Tony’s direction.

Tony looked at him, putting the mug down and opening his mouth to retort, to say anything, but nothing came out, and his jaw was moving, but nothing happened, no noise came out, Tony Stark was, for once in his life, completely silent.

His breath hitched in his throat and a wave of uneasiness passed over him, making his chest tighten. He couldn’t have an attack. Not now, not when there was already something wrong with him, when he was in front of Clint Barton, the resident asshole. But he couldn’t get away. His hands went cold and he tried to warm it them up with the coffee mug, but he was shaking and couldn’t hold onto anything without feeling weak. He closed his eyes and counted his breaths, trying to get under control, trying to stay sane, trying to speak-

“You okay?” Clint repeated, his eyebrows knitting together. He lept down from the counter and took a step toward Tony.

Tony gave a little shrug, stepping away from Clint. He cleared his throat to try and speak but where were the words? Words were his friends, they could get him out of anything, usually he could talk his way out of anything, and he needed those Goddamned words to talk his way out of this situation. Why couldn’t he speak? Why were the words stuck in his mind, why couldn’t he think, why couldn’t-

“Dude,” Clint grabbed onto Tony’s shoulder, jolting him. He frowned when he felt how much he was shaking. “Say something for me?”

Tony took a deep breath, wracking his memory for anything, any amount of sign language he might know, and mentally face palmed when the only thing that surfaced was ‘no you’. He brought his hand up and put his middle and index finger together against his thumb, then pointed at Clint. Clint looked even more confused, and even more worried, the opposite effect of what Tony intended. He needed snark. He needed to get away. He needed Clint to stop touching him for God’s sake.

“No you? Real mature, Stark. But I meant something verbal. Come on, it’s the only thing you can do some days, talk my head off, seriously, let’s hear those vocal chords,” Clint jabbered, desperate for Tony to just say something.

Tony squeezed his eyelids shut and tried to remember how to say anything, literally it could be something dirty or depressing, it didn’t matter, just something. He opened his mouth and tried to remember how to form the words but this information was nowhere to be found in his brain, it was stuck, it was blocked, it was gone. He opened his panicked eyes and found Clint’s serious blue/green eyes, and fixed on them. He closed his mouth and cleared his throat, then choked out a broken noise, vacant of any comprehensible words.

“JARVIS. Call Cap. Now,” Clint gritted his teeth. “What’s wrong with Stark?”

“There seems to be no abnormal brain activity,” JARVIS answered. “I am afraid that I cannot do a proper scan without sir being hooked up to the appropriate machines.”

“You sure there’s nothing? He’s not choking? He’s not..,” Clint trailed off once Steve ran into the room. He was probably hanging around in the lounge area, on the same floor as the kitchen, judging by the time he made it.

“He won’t talk. He can’t talk. He’s trying,” Clint said urgently, moving out of Steve’s way as he put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony flinched and stepped away, backing into the counter.

Steve took one look at the way Tony clutched at his chest and looked at Steve with helpless eyes and turned to look at Clint.

“Call SHIELD medical.”

\--

Tony ended up in a hospital room, loopy from all of the medicine they gave him to prep for all of the tests. But all of the tests were negative. Nothing was wrong, he just couldn’t talk, and it would be driving him insane if the drugs weren’t making him feel like he had just smoked a joint again for the first time. 

When he was finally in his right mind, he waited until all of the doctors were out before going to the washroom in his room, locking the door, and looking at himself in the mirror.

“Wh-wh-why c-c-can’t I t-t-t-ta-tal-talk,” he stuttered out, trying to remember how the words felt in his mouth.

He closed his eyes and tried again.

“T-t-t-ttal-tal-tal-talk-k-king,” he stammered, cringing at how he could barely understand what he was saying. 

He gave up after a few nonsense words and crawled back under his covers, shaking. He just couldn’t speak properly. And when he tried to make a sound in front of other people, even if it would be stuttery, he found all noise frozen in the back of his throat. The doctors were all confused. Heck, Tony was confused, upset, disappointed, all of the above. 

Pepper came in a few hours later, having just been given the clearance needed, and Tony immediately held his arms up and reached out to her. She moved toward him, holding his shaking shoulders and cradling his head.

“Rho-Rho-Rho,” Tony stuttered out, clutching onto Pepper’s shirt. She nodded softly, her smile tight and faked, knowing who he was talking about.

“Rhodey’ll be here, I promise,” she said gently, stroking his hair, massaging his scalp, and he closed his eyes and pressed his face into Pepper’s shirt. “I’ll make it happen.”

He didn’t realize how tense all of his muscles had been until that moment.

\--

The team had been stuck in the dark, taking shifts outside of the SHIELD medical room.

Part of that was Tony’s fault. When Pepper asked the doctors if they were planning on telling the others of what was going on, they all looked to Tony as if he could verbally give permission. He cleared his throat, trying to remember how to sound out the very specific word he needed to say, no matter how long and complicated it was. 

“H-h-h-h-hip-p-p-po-cr-cr-cra-,” he stuttered out, before Pepper interrupted him by taking his hand.

“Hippocratic Oath,” she finished for him. “I believe that means no.”

Tony nodded and swallowed harshly, fighting back a wave of frustration. Why couldn’t he just speak?

He didn’t want the team to see him like this, all broken, without his best weapon. The Iron Man suit only served to impair people, but when it came to negotiating or getting out of things, he needed words. It was hard to negotiate with a weapon of mass destruction, so words were his best friends, but now they were gone and he couldn’t fucking speak and what the hell was wrong with him? All of the tests were negative. No abnormal activity. He just couldn’t speak, he just sort of… forgot how. He would try to sound it out in his head but his brain just forgot how it sounded, and his lips forgot what shape to make, and his vocal chords forgot to vibrate. There was no way he would let the team see him like this.

Tony ended up going back to the mansion, because there was nothing the doctors could do. Pepper made a huge effort of using every single word that she could in order to reintroduce the words to him, sort of like writing an essay. A plain ‘I can’t, because’ became ‘I am unable to do this thing, for these reasons that follow,’ adding to the word count. She made him listen to podcasts, first starting out with the easy-listening ones then to complicated ones that talk about science and that use long words. The TV was on almost all of the time, as background noise or the main focus. 

“Audio stimuli,” Pepper said when he pointed at the TV that was on with no one watching it, raising an eyebrow questionably. “Since you refuse to see a speech therapist.”

Rhodey eventually came, while Tony was staring blankly at the infomercial playing on the TV, his eyes glazed over, not really paying attention, leaning back against the couch. Rhodey cleared his throat and Tony turned around, his eyes focusing on his friend.

Tony paused, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Rhodey,” he said finally, clearly.

“Tones,” Rhodey answered, smiling slightly. He was surprised, Pepper had said that he couldn’t tall very well, only in stutters and aborted mouth movements, and preferred not to talk at all to save his ego.

“Rhodey,” Tony repeated, surprised as well, at how clear his voice was. “Rhodey.”

“I’m right here, Tony,” Rhodey said patiently, moving toward the couch.

“Rhodey. I c-can’t, I-I-I can’t t-talk,” Tony stuttered out, contrasted to the clearness before of his name.

A sob echoed from Tony’s throat, and Rhodey cradled Tony’s head, pressing it against his stomach as he stayed standing. He ran his fingers through Tony’s hair, holding him as he shook softly. Tony grabbed onto Rhodey’s shirt as if he was afraid that he would leave, but he stayed.

“You’re doing just fine,” Rhodey said simply, after Tony had calmed down slightly. 

And so Rhodey also launched himself into the ‘Save Tony Stark’s Fucking Voice’ project, but instead of just letting Tony listen to the words, he forced him to repeat them. They started off easy, with just Rhodey asking questions and Tony answering to the best of his ability (simple things like “How was your day?” “Ff-ff-fuck-cking ter-r-rib-ble Rho-rho-rhode-dey.”), and then branched off into the more science-y words, because Tony got mad whenever he couldn’t pronounce ‘shoe’ or ‘fun’ but seemed to lose his temper less when it came to words like ‘astrophysics’ or ‘ethanoic acid.’ It was a work in progress, to say the least.

“What’s your name?” Rhodey asked.

“T-t-tony Sh-ss-sk-s- oh ff-fuck, I gg-g-give up,” Tony stammered. He always had trouble with the ST words, as well as making the sound TH. His tongue just didn’t like cooperating with him.

“Stark.”

“S-s-ssk-ssh-s-sh-” Tony broke off, shaking his head. “I c-c-ccan’t.”

“Stark.”

“Skkk-sk-sk-” Tony tried. “V-v-vsc-c-co g-g-ggirl.”

“I’m not trying to turn you into a vsco girl,” Rhodey sighed. 

“F-f-feels l-l-like it.”

Sometimes it ended up in frustrated tears, but it was okay, because anything was progress. Heck, the fact that Tony had gotten talking again, even though it took a while to decipher through all of the stuttering, was progress.

Through Tony’s absence, Pepper was still running the company. She had to make a statement about Stark Industries not producing anymore tech until further notice, and Tony and Pepper decided to bullshit it. She ended up saying that they had so much tech and projects already, so they were going to focus on those things before making anything new. The public seemed to buy it, so he was forever going to owe Pepper for literally everything. 

But the Avengers kept trying to contact him, and one time they all showed up at the door of the mansion, so naturally, Tony pointed to the door to let Rhodey know that they could come in. But then there were people in the living room, all looking at Tony expectantly, and he tried to say something, but it was all stuck again, because there were so many eyes and oh my God not again he was just getting better he could say his name again and he could say all of their names and fuck.

Rhodey kicked them all out because Tony was very clearly overwhelmed and couldn't make a single sound. Rhodey allowed him a day of self-pity before forcing him out of his room and making him talk again.

It took two whole months for Tony to be able to say simple words without a stutter, so he moved back into the tower, deciding that he took enough time off. Rhodey decided to move in with him, just in case, and got the guest bedroom on Tony’s floor. They were on their last trip for bags when Steve stepped out of the elevator, and grinned at Tony and Rhodey.

“Glad to have you back,” he nodded at them both.

“H-h-h-hi,” Tony stammered back.

As soon as Rhodey and Tony were alone in the elevator, Tony’s face split into the largest smile. He hadn’t frozen up.


	3. Chapter 3

Word about Stark returning to the tower got the rest of the Avengers buzzing and happy to have their comrade back. The tower was quiet without him, they were used to chatter, and even though Tony only spoke when he felt it absolutely necessary, it just felt better. More like a frat house, basically. Tony stuttered and stammered through every sentence, but he was speaking! He didn’t usually freeze up around them! 

(Except when he was asked to say something at the table or asked a very sudden question or it was before his coffee or it was in a group larger than three people or or ororor-)

There was a charity event approaching quickly, and it was a good three months after his release from SHIELD medical. He was talking okay, nearly no stutter, and he had his speech memorized. He practiced in front of Rhodey, Pepper, his mirror, in the shower, to JARVIS, muttering to himself while he was just sitting around. He knew the speech like the back of his own hand, and when the day finally came, he felt ready. He would get up on the podium, with the cards just in case, and he would be back. Tony Stark would be back.

So he got dressed up, drove himself to the banquet hall, heard his name being called, and he stepped up on the podium and took his cards out of his pocket and stared at all of the faces looking at him expectantly and all of the cameras and all of the microphones and there were so many eyes staring at him and if he stuttered then everything would go to hell because they’d all catch it so he couldn’t mess up but he had this speech memorized, right? He knew it, right? He could do this, right?

He opened his mouth to say the first word (hello), but nothing came out. 

Tony cleared his throat and tried again.

He swallowed hard and tried again.

He fiddled with the cards, rereading the first word over and over again (hello hello hellohellohellohello) but he couldn’t remember the H noise and how the air was supposed to move and what shape his mouth was supposed to make and suddenly he was in the super-fancy banquet hall washroom, leaning heavily against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror and reciting his speech. And he was stuttering, he hasn’t stuttered with these words in so long, and he was crying, he hasn’t cried in so long, what was happening.

Rhodey found him like that. He took him back to the tower while Pepper stayed behind to take care of the situation. Probably making a whole bunch of reporters leaving much richer than they were before. 

And it was back to repeating every single word he’d ever learned multiple times to stop the stuttering.

\--

After three months and a bit, Tony was itching to go back to his workshop.

Rhodey and Pepper had been reluctant, knowing that one of the causes of this entire speech problem was probably Tony shutting himself down in his work and refusing to talk or hear anyone talk for two whole weeks. Nobody really knew the cause, but it was very plausible that not speaking for a long period of time didn’t help. So, Rhodey and Pepper decided that he could work for a maximum of six hours a day, and he had to take frequent breaks and eat with someone and just keep talking, basically. Pepper called him after every hour, just to make sure he was saying something.

Some days, though, even through all of the talking he had to do over the day, come evening, he wouldn’t be able to utter a word. Pepper started freaking out when Tony wouldn’t speak so she called Rhodey who called the team who called Tony which freaked him out even more because he couldn’t say anything into the phone and it was a giant shit storm. Everything got sorted out, though, and nobody ended up in SHIELD medical. After a long nap, Tony would be back to normal (his new normal, at least, with words getting stuck), and everyone could relax and go back to their routines.

Bruce was the first to make the connection between Tony’s levels of stress and his inability to speak. Tony wasn’t convinced, so then Bruce literally had JARVIS keep tabs on his levels of stress, and compared the usual (still sky-rocketing) stress levels of his normal day-to-day versus the levels during the days when he finds himself unable to speak. Then wrote a paper about it and gave it to Tony, whose initial reaction was originally repulsion at the idea of Brucie-Bear stalking him, then it was reluctant agreeance, after he read the report.

So Bruce made him do yoga with him. Every Monday, Thursday, and Sunday morning, they’d do meditation activities together. Tony pretended to hate it, but Bruce could tell that it was helping, so they continued.

Actually, all of the team members helped in their own ways. While Bruce was more focused on the stress, Steve and Thor were focused on the speech part. Steve went to the tower library frequently, and invited Tony. Together, they read current-event books, everything that happened from when Steve was frozen and now, and he had Tony discuss it with him. Thor, in turn, entertained him with stories of Loki’s disobedience and life on Asgard, and he let Tony explain all of the great Midgardian technology to him. He tripped over his words every once in a while, but they didn’t mention it and let him take his time.

Clint and Natasha stole him from the lab about three times every week to spar, just to make sure he got out of his work and kept in good shape. They talked a lot, surprisingly, and Tony found his brain working again to think of fast comebacks to Clint’s stupid and endless quips. They always had a good time, and it was really helping. He was getting better. They didn’t mention it when he stuttered, either.

Tony would usually avoid the phone at all costs, especially when he wasn’t calling Rhodey or Pepper, but he was hungry and everyone was busy and he felt bad asking someone to order pizza for him while he awkwardly waited. So he nervously dialed the nearby Pizza Pizza, and thought about what he was going to say, exactly what he was going to order, and how he was going to say it. 

And he didn’t freeze up.

He was so proud of himself when he hung up that he immediately called Rhodey, and sent a text to the receptionist downstairs to bring up the pizza when it arrived and to charge it on his account. 

“Tones? Everything alright, over there?” came his friend’s hesitant voice.

“Rhodey. Guess what,” Tony grinned, even though Rhodey couldn’t see it.

“What?” Rhodey answered.

“Okay. Th-this is going to sound weird, but I ordered p-p-pizza,” Tony admitted.

“...And?” Rhodey asked, struggling to find what was so interesting in that fact.

“By phone! And I didn’t f-freeze up,” he said, suddenly feeling dumb when he heard the laugh on the other end. “It’s stupid, b-but-”

“No, no, Tones. I’m proud of you,” Rhodey interrupted, and Tony could hear the smile through his words. “I’m coming over. Celebratory drink.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.”

That was the first time in a long time that Tony could admit that he was truly, completely, happy.

\--

The next speech date was at St Jude's to visit children in the hospital, something he did every year, no fail. And there was no way that he wasn’t doing it this year, even though he was still stuttering slightly on some words. He just needed to choose the words he could use. Sudden speech impediment was not an excuse, nothing was going to stand in the way of him visiting the children. He would bring all of his suits (except for his good one) and let the kids marvel at them for a bit, and Tony always left a better person. Happier. 

He practiced his speech in the mirror, in front of Pepper and Rhodey, always repeating the words in his head. He couldn’t screw this up. Forget the meetings, forget the gala; this was the most important speech he’ll ever deliver in his life. He usually never found finding the words to say to children difficult, and he wasn’t about to stress over it, but who knew? Some days he still woke up, unable to say a word, panicking until JARVIS called Pepper or Rhodey to calm him down. It was really getting tiring.

So the day came, and he stood up in front of the beaming faces that belonged to the little children in the pediatric ward, and-

Didn’t mess up.

He couldn’t stop grinning, and didn’t find the heart to keep warning the kids to not break the Iron Man armour; he’d fix it later, whatever. But he just spoke. Without stuttering. In front of a group. Soon he’d be back to normal, right? Always knowing what to say, always knowing how to act, never a blank time in his head or a stutter on his lips. He’d get better.

“Is it ever scary?” a little boy asked, suddenly appearing at Tony’s feet. He had an oxygen tube running under his nose and was lugging around a cylinder.

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, kneeling down to get on the kid’s height. He was already drawing plans in his mind to make the oxygen more portable. He should get back and see which of SI’s medical advancements were ready for the public world.

“Being Iron Man,” the kid elaborated.

“Well, you see, Mister..,” he waited.

“Bryce.”

“You see, Mr Bryce,” Tony said. “I’m Tony Stark. I never get scared, being Iron Man.”

“Oh,” the kid said, looking down at his feet and shuffling from side to side.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Tony asked.

“What?” Bryce’s head snapped up. Kids loved secrets. It’s a great way to get them to listen to you, Tony had learned over the years. 

“It’s normal, adult, boring things that I’m scared of,” Tony pulled a face. “Responsibility. Ugh.”

“But you’re a grown-up!” the kid laughed.

“But imagine giving speeches in front of people. You have school, right? Imagine that, everyday, until you retire. That’s horrifying,” Tony shuddered exaggeratedly. 

“I hate school,” Bryce stuck out his tongue. 

“And I’m scared of working. Responsibilities terrify me,” Tony grinned. “You wanna try a suit?”

The kid ran off eagerly to a suit, and Tony stood up, surveying the scene. Everyone was happy. There was a smile on everyone’s face, and just seeing the large amount of happy people warmed Tony’s dead heart. He was glad he came, he was glad he practiced so hard. If he disappointed the children, he would be disappointed with himself, and probably just lie in bed all day unable to say a word. But he was okay. It was all okay.

“It’s really good, that you do this,” one of the hospital staff said, striding up to stand beside him. 

“Yeah, well, gotta do my part for society,” Tony said, and looked down at the staff’s name tag. “Mr Jonathan Brown.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr Stark,” Mr Brown held out his hand. Tony shook it firmly. “But seriously. Your innovations are what saved me.”

“What’s your story?” Tony asked.

“Leber’s Congenital Amaurosis. Thanks to the independent research done by your labs, they were able to find the faulty gene and isolate it,” Mr Brown said. 

“Well, that wasn’t me. I just fund it. Can’t take all the credit,” Tony winked. “But glad to see you’re seeing.”

“Tell your labs thanks for me, then. Seriously. Everything’s still a bit fuzzy, but I can read. That may sound stupid, but really, Mr Stark. It was life-changing,” Mr Brown rambled. 

Tony laughed. “Y’know, up until recently, I couldn’t speak.”

Mr Brown looked at him weirdly, confused.

“I just couldn’t speak. No sound came out. Nothing. Zip. Nada,” Tony said. “It was such a relief when I could actually form sentences again.”

“You never know what you have until it gets taken away,” Mr Brown nodded, not pressing the topic of the speech impediment. Tony was grateful.

He left about five million dollars poorer (not saying much) after giving the large paycheque to the hospital. He made a small, private donation of two million dollars to the speech program along with the donation to the pediatric department, and he was just so fucking happy. He couldn’t describe it. It was like a high without the drugs, it was a helium balloon inside of him, making him feel lighter with every step. Tony called Pepper on the way home.

“So I visited the hospital,” Tony grinned, even though Pepper couldn’t see him. He just couldn’t stop smiling, probably freaking out some people on the road.

“The kids were nice?” Pepper asked.

“Yeah. Can you tell the research department to focus on medical things at the moment? I’m sure I can work on things as well, and I think I can try to find a way to make the things those poor children have to lug around a little lighter and portable, and I can take a chunk out of those earnings to help fund some research into-”

“Tony,” Pepper interrupted. “Didn’t you make a speech?”

“I didn’t stutter. It was good. Pep, holy shit. I didn’t stutter,” Tony rambled. His grin was permanently plastered on his face, he just felt so so so happy and good and so grateful to be alive. “Did you write down my requests?

Pepper laughed. “Eyes on the road, Dr Frederick Grant Banting. I’ll get the researching department set up.”

“You’re the best,” Tony said. “I don’t think I tell you enough.”

“No, you always tend to say that about yourself,” Pepper quipped, and Tony could practically hear the eye-roll. 

“Uncalled for,” he said. 

“You deserve it.”

“Yeah, I do,” he pressed on the accelerator once the road cleared up. “I’ll see you later. I need a celebratory drink.”

“It’s four in the afternoon, Tony,” Pepper said, with a questioning tone of voice.

“I deserve it.”

Pepper sighed audibly into the phone.

“Once I started talking again, everybody seems to want me to shut up,” Tony noticed. “Tired of me already?”

“Tony- no. I love your voice, okay honey?” she said quickly. “I can never be tired of you.”

“I’m kidding, Pep. It doesn’t hurt me,” he switched lanes, as there was a cement truck going way too slowly for the flow of traffic. 

“Yeah, it does,” Pepper quipped.

“Yeah, it does,” Tony admitted.

The line was silent, the only noise was the noise of the custom Tesla’s engine. 

“Eyes on the road, right? I’ll see you in a bit,” Tony said finally. “Make sure to get the money set for the Medical research team.”

“I will. I love you,” Pepper said softly. 

“I love you too, honey. Thanks a bunch,” Tony nodded. The line went dead as Pepper hung up, and Tony continued his drive on the road.

As the days turned into weeks and turned into months, Tony was back to normal. He still froze up, although not as frequent, and it didn’t take most of his energy to think up of words as much as it used to. He returned to his regular work hours (which were still spontaneous), always making sure to take breaks, heavily encouraged by Pepper. With the help of Dr Banner, developed a type of gene therapy to help with most genetic diseases and disabilities and also made an oxygen tank that could use different reactions to extract the percentage of oxygen from the air needed for a patient’s lungs, that was a quarter of the original tank’s size. He was on the list for some award. Life was looking up. 

Tony Stark was getting better. He still had his moments, but it’s okay to start over sometimes.


End file.
